The response to the Accord from the Tamils of Ceylon was one of relief and jubilation.
In Batticaloa and Trincomalee where government oppression had been the most far-reaching,
this jubilation found public expression. In Batticaloa where the S.T.F. once had
a license to kill, the STF watched sullenly while the people celebrated. Sensing
an explosive situation, some community leaders telephoned the Indian Embassy and
asked them to send in the I.P.K.F. early.

Some days before the signing
of the Accord, the L.T.T.E. had talks with Mr. Puri of the Indian Embassy in
Jaffna. The L.T.T.E. then issued a statement that India had agreed to recognise
the L.T.T.E. as the sole legitimate representatives of the Tamil people. On
24 July Prabhakaran left Jaffna for Delhi by Indian air force helicopter. In
New Delhi he was to meet with Rajiv Gandhi and have talks with Indian officials.
Apparently these did not go happily. It was clear that agreement on the Accord
had been reached between Delhi and Colombo. Some details were leaked to the
Sunday papers in Colombo which published them on 26 July. It was also said that
the Accord was going to be signed in the next few days and that New Delhi was
confident of securing the L.T.T.E.'s compliance. The government made important
concessions to India, especially concerning the non-use of Trincomalee harbour
by parties hostile to India. The government had failed in its goals, even false
ones, which it set before the Sinhalese people. Its main gains from the Accord
were that a sharp drop in the defence budget would provide funds for development
projects and for salary increases to public servants, and hopefully put an end
to the bloodletting and instability resulting from the war. It had to sell this
to the Sinhalese with judicious packaging. The riots which broke out in Colombo
with the signing of the Accord indicated that the task would not be easy. The
ceremonial aspect was marked by a Sinhalese sailor in the guard of honour swinging
the butt of his gun at the Indian Prime Minister, who narrowly escaped serious
injury. The government's salesmanship was not without effect. A Colombo based
journalist related the story of how a taxi driver let loose at the President
with expletives when the Accord was signed. One week later his tone was different.
He had said: "Our President is a wise man. He has shrewdly left it to the
Indians to handle the Kottiyas (Tigers)." On the other hand, the Sinhalese
extremist group, the J.V.P., has been becoming increasingly deadly since the
Accord. At the time the Accord was signed, the MP for Tangalle was killed. The
J.V.P. has since then followed it up with attacks on leading government personalities,
including an attack on the U.N.P. parliamentary group inside the parliamentary
complex on 8 August and the murder of the U.N.P. chairman Harsha Abhayawardene
on 23 December, 1987. The J.V.P. thrived on soil watered by the government's
racist propaganda. Its elimination has now called forth the deployment in Sinhalese
territory of the same mental and military apparatus once used against Tamils.

The L.T.T.E. was now downcast.
Little had been heard from New Delhi, from their leader Prabhakaran. From 30
July, Indian forces had been flown into Palaly, while Sri Lankan forces were
flown South for riot control duties. The L.T.T.E.'s first task was to secure
the return of Prabhakaran. To this end crowds were made to sit down and block
the roads leading out of Palaly. The crowds appeared to be more curious than
angry. For two days the Indian army came out, stood before the crowds, made
polite conversation and got back to base. The Accord envisaged a surrender of
arms within 72 hours. The L.T.T.E. maintained that it could not take a decision
without its leader. The Indians then made an announcement that Prabhakaran would
be flown back on 2 August and deposited at Suthumalai from where he had earlier
been flown to India. From Palaly to Suthumalai, Prabhakaran was escorted by
Indian troops. The L.T.T.E. imposed a curfew for the first time in places straddling
the envisaged route. People watching from their houses were strongly discouraged,
with little effect, from waving at Indian troops. The L.T.T.E. announced a public
meeting at which Mr. Prabhakaran would announce the movement's decision on the
surrender of arms. The meeting was held at Suthumalai on 4 August. Tens of thousands
attended, including Indian military officials, embassy attaches and local and
foreign journalists. Mr. Prabhakaran's speech was commended as having been masterly
delivered. He played the role of a chieftain, who had struggled for his people
and had been ill-used by India who purported to be a friend. He was now bowing
to fate and yet kept his independence and self respect. It was a moving performance,
and yet there were discordant notes. The main anxiety for the people was now
that the L.T.T.E. should surrender its arms and secure the peace -- peace which
had so often turned out to be an elusive phantom. The speech was heading for
a tragic climax when Prabhakaran said that their armaments had been used in
defence of the people of Tamil Eelam and in defence of their rights. Now, he
said, they were parting with these same arms and had decided under pressure
to surrender them. A crowd which was in tune with him would have wept aloud.
But instead, they applauded. The television broadcast showed a momentary spasm
of annoyance passing over Prabhakaran's face. This was a continuation of the
communication gap between the L.T.T.E. and the people, which was alluded to
in describing the events of 1 May.

At the same meeting, the L.T.T.E.'s
Trincomalee leader, Mr. Pulendran expressed his unhappiness about surrendering
their arms in the context of the unresolved problems of Trincomalee. In surrendering
the L.T.T.E.'s arms Prabhakaran had commended the Tamils to India's care and
had also declined to accept the Chief Ministership in the interim administration.

With the L.T.T.E.'s decision
to surrender arms, it was thought that the peace was here to stay. There was
relief all round. It may be mentioned that this period saw the rise of Yogi,
the brother of the late Mr. Kugan, the previous second-in-command, to the position
of Chief of Propaganda. Subsequently a quantity of arms was ceremonially surrendered
by Yogi to the Sri Lankan army at Palaly under I.P.K.F. supervision. Such ceremonies
took place throughout the North and East. The arms surrenders by the L.T.T.E.,
E.R.O.S., E.P.R.L.F., E.N.D.L.F., P.L.O.T.E., and T.E.L.O. were telecast for
the benefit of the Sinhalese. The latter three militant groups were exiled in
India. The E.N.D.L.F. (Eelam National Democratic Liberation Front, popularly
known as Three Star) was made up of a breakaway group of the P.L.O.T.E. under
Rajan and a breakaway group of the T.E.L.O.. Under the Accord, it was envisaged
that all militant groups would be brought to Ceylon, surrender their arms and
take part in democratic politics.

The rest of the story is about
how the failings of all parties to the conflict, the Sri Lankan and Indian governments,
the militant groups and the Tamil people, wove themselves into an explosive
fabric which ignited in October 1987.

Each party could pick facts
selectively to fuel righteous indignation. Each party could maintain with some
justice that it had acted rightly whilst others had ill-used and wounded it.
Charity, patience and a sense of give and take were missing. The Accord envisaged
a surrender of arms by militants within 72 hours. Even a week after that, arms
were still trickling in. President Jayewardene for his part had undertaken to
grant amnesty to all militants and to release all prisoners detained. Charges
had been framed only against a fraction of those detained. General Sepala Attygalle
read out the President's amnesty when Yogi made the first surrender of arms
on 6 August. The process of releasing political prisoners also commenced at
this time. The Sri Lankan government was convinced that only a small fraction
of the arms had been surrendered. In this they had the concurrence of most observers.

At the joint press conference
with the Indian Defence Minister K. C. Pant on 8 October, the President was
asked why he went beyond his side of the bargain to grant the amnesty and release
prisoners before the L.T.T.E. had hardly begun to move on its part. The President
replied that the Indians had persuaded him to honour his part in advance, while
the Indians undertook to unearth the arms. Justifying what he had done, the
President summed up his argument with impeccable eloquence: "It was an
Accord for peace and not for war." He pointed out that venturing out on
the Accord would have been pointless if the war was to go on. With considerable
justice, the President could maintain that he had taken commendable risks to
make the Accord work.

On the other hand, the government
was in an indecent hurry to resettle displaced Sinhalese persons in the East
without a parallel initiative being taken over displaced Tamil persons. Sinhalese
were being settled on schemes in the Trincomalee and Amparai districts. The
one on the Trincomalee-Habarana Road was in the area where stretches of jungle
had been cleared on both sides of the road after the massacre of Sinhalese passengers
during the new-year. When questioned by the Trincomalee citizens' committee,
minister Gamini Dissanayake replied that this settlement was meant to put a
stop to various nefarious activities. The settlement on the Allai-Kantalai Road
was more subtle. The Kantalai dam had been breached in April 1986 causing widespread
destruction in the adjoining agricultural scheme which was about 30 years old.
There had been 70 allotments each to the Tamils and Muslims and 260 to the Sinhalese.
The Trincomalee G.A. told the citizens' committee in the presence of the visiting
British Minister that after the disaster of April 1986, the Sinhalese settlers
had agreed to be relocated elsewhere, while the Tamils and Muslims wished to
go back to their old allotments. He explained that since each Sinhalese family
which held an allotment had now become 3 by natural increase, the Sinhalese
settlers were now being given about 600 allotments on the Allai-Kantalai Road.
There was evidently some cheating involved here. For one thing it is not the
common rule that every family can claim additional crown land for its natural
increase. Nor is it likely that the Tamils and Muslims were told that they could
claim extra land for their natural increase if agreeable to relocation. The
fact that the government was prepared to use its machinery to cheat in the matter
of colonisation before the interim council to administer the North and East
came into existence, was bound to arouse Tamil suspicions concerning the Accord.
If the government wanted to make the Accord work and to restore Tamil confidence,
it should have held off acting in controversial areas until the Tamils could
be carried along. The extent of colonisation in question was small and the government
had little to gain by flexing its muscles.

Colonisation touched a tender
spot in the Tamil psyche. A Tamil grievance could also be aired against the
Accord with a modicum of substance by saying: "The provincial councils
envisaged under the Accord are an eyewash. The government is doing the bad old
thing in colonisation, with the Indians doing nothing to stop it. The provincial
councils will be a ceremonial farce like the ill-fated District Councils of
1981."

It has been mentioned that
L.T.T.E. leaders such as Mr. Pulendran, who had had a bitter personal experience
of the Sinhalese army and in turn caused bitter experiences amongst Sinhalese,
had strong feelings on colonisation. To this could be added other complaints,
again not entirely lacking in justice. Supporters of the L.T.T.E. could say:
"All right, the government and the Indians are complaining about the slow
surrender of arms by the L.T.T.E.. But everyone knows that some of the other
militant groups were trained and armed by the Indian government just before
the Accord. Does that not amount to a plan to destroy the L.T.T.E.? They have
hidden arms. Can the L.T.T.E. really afford to surrender all its arms? How will
they defend themselves? Moreover the government is hedging on the release of
prisoners"

Suggestions within government
ranks surfaced in the press to the effect that the release of prisoners should
be linked to the surrender of arms. Many Tamils found common cause with the
L.T.T.E. on the issue of prisoners and on colonisation. It could after all be
maintained on legal and moral grounds that the overwhelming bulk of prisoners
had no specific charges against them. Thus the government had no business to
hold them even for a minute. And then holding them to ransom for arms is an
inexcusable absurdity for a government to impose on its Tamil citizens who were
in law equal to Sinhalese citizens.

On the other hand, the other
militant groups could say: "We too made a contribution towards Tamil liberation.
Hundreds of our comrades gave their lives fighting the Sinhalese army. Not only
did the L.T.T.E. murder our comrades in cold blood and torture and humiliate
many others, they are also striving to wipe away our contribution from the annals
of the Ceylon Tamils. Do not we at least deserve to live?"

The Indians could say: "Are
not the Tamils moving much more freely and breathing much more easily because
of us? Detained Tamils are being steadily released. People should not jump to
hasty conclusions about us. We cannot simply go around asking Sinhalese to pack
up and go. Our officers have gone about making a careful study of colonisation.
Did we not suspend work on a colonisation scheme in the Batticaloa district?
The return of all militant groups to the island is a necessary part of the Accord.
Our position is that all Tamils have a right to live here and participate in
democratic politics. We do not carry a brief for any person or party. The L.T.T.E.
must appreciate that."

Everyone had a case as well
as complaints. These will be strengthened by the failings of others. Most significant
were the failings of India, because she was supposed to be by far the most superior
in wisdom, strength and experience; on her mature dexterity hinged the success
of the Accord.

Getting back to the early
days of August, it looked for a time that the L.T.T.E. would go in for electoral
politics with some quaint touches of its own. To this end the Eelamurasu, which
was controlled by the L.T.T.E. started a very traditional attack on the T.U.L.F..
The T.U.L.F. was perceived as the main rival to the L.T.T.E. in the event of
elections. The Eelamurasu started a column called Somersaults aimed at discomfiting
the T.U.L.F.. For example, it published an old photograph of the veteran T.U.L.F.
politician, Mr. V. Navaratnam driving President Jayewardene, then leader of
the Opposition, in his automobile. It promoted elements of the L.T.T.E.'s religious
creed - that there were precisely 631 martyrs for the cause of Tamil Eelam.
631 was the number of its dead claimed by the L.T.T.E.. Around this time Mr.
Shankar, an E.R.O.S. leader, stated in an interview with the Colombo based Sunday
Island that his group had lost 150 men and said in an aside that none of them
had taken cyanide. The L.T.T.E. men carried cyanide capsules around their necks
and many of those who died did so taking cyanide after being cornered. The Eelamurasu
responded with a polemical piece against Shankar. All this had the flavour of
election-time politics which people were comfortable with. The L.T.T.E.'s deputy
leader, Mr. Sri Mahattaya, uncharacteristically started giving interviews to
foreign and Colombo papers. He told the Weekend that Sinhalese were welcome
to Jaffna and would not be harmed. Sinhalese flocked to see the lost land of
Jaffna. This too augured well.

However, there were elements
of instability evident at this time. One was the L.T.T.E.'s insistence that
its 631 dead were the only ones who died in the cause of the liberation of Tamils.
The dead from other militant groups and from amongst civilians were demoted
to useless chaff. Such intolerance was bound to lead towards angry violence.
The other was that many of the members of the P.L.O.T.E., E.N.D.L.F. and T.E.L.O.
now lodged in Mannar, Vavuniya and Kilinochchi were strongly motivated by a
desire to take revenge on the L.T.T.E.. Prominent amongst these were Sankili
(Kandasamy), a leading member of the P.L.O.T.E., and Rajan.

Many felt uncomfortable that
India had chosen such a volatile arrangement. India could argue that the peace
accord had in it a package deal for all the militants. If participation in murder
was to be a criterion, all militant groups, including the L.T.T.E., should be
sent to the Andaman Islands. This would not be feasible and perhaps not what
people wanted.

Another aspect of the L.T.T.E.'s
political thrust came to light in early August. A little known affair which
concerned the students of the University of Jaffna was the kidnapping by the
L.T.T.E. of the student Rajakaran. The student had been active in matters of
common interest and had taken part as a member of the action committee during
the affair in November 1986 of the missing student Vijitharan. It later came
to light that the actual reason for kidnapping the student was to do with the
L.T.T.E.'s suspicion that Rajakaran had connections with the N.L.F.T., a small
Marxist group. Its leader Mr. Viswanandadevan, an Engineer and pungent critic
of the L.T.T.E.'s, had been missing for two years. It was suspected that he
had been killed during a crossing from India. The L.T.T.E. had detained and
harassed other members of the N.L.F.T., but had been unable to get at the group's
cash and weaponry. It was hoped by the L.T.T.E. that Rajakaran may be able to
help. At the time of Rajakaran's kidnapping, Viswanandadevan's 70 year old father
in Nelliady had also been arrested and beaten. His compound had also been dug
up. Rajakaran's detention was denied by the L.T.T.E.. For this reason, the worst
was suspected. But the versatile Rajakaran escaped L.T.T.E. custody in early
July. In a letter dated 17 July 1987, Rajakaran appealed to the Jaffna University
Teachers' Association (J.U.T.A.) to speak to the L.T.T.E. and seek a guarantee
that he would not be harmed. It was subsequently left to the students themselves
to raise the matter with the L.T.T.E.. Here again the students had acted with
commendable boldness where others had been held back by unwarranted fear. The
discussion was cordial. Mr. Sri Mahattaya himself admitted that the students
had been tackled the wrong way and assured them that no harm will befall Rajakaran.
The students put it diplomatically that such an assurance should be made publicly.
Mahattaya agreed. On a subsequent day he made an appearance at the Kailasapathy
auditorium and gave such an assurance. He said during his statement that Rajakaran
was investigated for links with a criminal organisation. It is interesting that
other militant groups came to be branded as criminal (anarchic) only because
the L.T.T.E. was the most successful in the employment of similar methods.

The surprising development
was that Rajakaran was present and took the stage on request. The L.T.T.E. walked
out. Rajakaran described his experiences under detention, including physical
hurt. A revealing piece of information he gave was that Mr. Kailasapillai, a
T.U.L.F. stalwart from Illuppaikkadavai in the Mannar district, had been a co-detainee
with him at a camp in Tellipallai. A few days before the Eelamurasu had featured
Mr. Kailasapillai with his photograph in its lead story. In an interview he
had reportedly said that the T.U.L.F. was no longer needed and praised the armed
youth. An attorney in the K.K.S. electorate who was close to the T.U.L.F. leader,
A. Amirthalingam, made a similar recantation. It cannot be said that election
politics in Ceylon was strange to such methods. Only, the degree was new. Fear
had replaced bribery.

The I.P.K.F. had promised
that all militant groups were entitled to its protection. In Mannar the L.T.T.E.
had sought an I.P.K.F. escort. The E.N.D.L.F. under its leader, Rajan, made
its appearance in Jaffna under I.P.K.F. escort. It addressed a meeting in the
University. It made an attempt to set up an office on Beach Road. An L.T.T.E.
instigated crowd sat on the road in front of the house, shouted slogans and
threw stones. An E.N.D.L.F. man who went out to peep was caught and was being
badly mauled. One of his comrades after appealing to I.P.K.F. men who were present,
and not finding an immediate response, grabbed a gun from one of them and fired
it into the air. The crowd dispersed. The not so independent press in Jaffna
reported the matter as a case of the people not wanting the E.N.D.L.F.. The
first reported internecine killings were those of 3 L.T.T.E. men in the Mannar
district. In another incident an armed party of the L.T.T.E. that was sent to
avenge these killings was reportedly surrounded and shot. During this latter
half of August, there was little to worry in Jaffna itself, but killings and
counter killings amongst militants started occurring in Vavuniya, Kilinochchi,
Mannar and Trincomalee. The mood of optimism in Jaffna was however heightened
by the resumption of the train service to Colombo on 31 August. Jaffna's Tamil
language Uthayan daily carried a report that the Indians were to build the much
longed for rail link from Jaffna to Batticaloa. Although Jaffna, Trincomalee
and Batticaloa were linked by Tamil territory comprising the Eastern seaboard,
travel between them was cumbersome and of late, hazardous. This too was something
to smile about. The train with a repair crew appeared in Jaffna on the evening
of 30 August after an absence of 18 months, and stopped near the Kachcheri to
replace some missing sleepers. A happy crowd gathered as if to welcome visiting
Royalty. The job was quickly done. The I.P.W. (Inspector of Permanent Ways)
looked at his watch and said in the homely, but not quite Queen's English that
one has long associated with that tribe: "It is getting bloody late. Let's
move on." He then signalled to the gangs of navvies to get on board. A
whole host of children clambered up as the train pulled off, to enjoy a free
ride up to the station six hundred yards away.

Then things began to move
in Jaffna. On 1 September, an L.T.T.E. sentry at Kulapitty junction in Kokkuvil
was abducted by persons travelling in a van, assaulted and later released. On
the night of 7 September, four Assembly of God (A.O.G.) churchmen who were travelling
in a van were gunned down at Uduvil junction. Two of the dead were Sinhalese
clergy from the South. The motive for the killing was unclear and was put down
to misadventure. The incident happened around 10:00 p.m. The van was to go inside
Church Lane to pick up another A.O.G. clergyman. L.T.T.E. sources claimed that
they were the intended victims. So did the E.N.D.L.F.. All that is known is
that prior to the shooting, masked gunmen with walkie-talkies detained two A..O.G.
members in that area. They heard orders being issued to fire at a white van
that was coming. The two A.O.G. members tried telling the gunmen without success
that their own pastors were expected in a van.

The following day an L.T.T.E.
loudspeaker car went around announcing in the Chunnakam area: "Not only
are these criminal groups now killing our members. They have now taken to murdering
Christian clergy." On 3 September,the Assistant Government Agent of Mutur
Mr. Habib Mohammed was shot dead in the early hours of the morning as he was
returning from the mosque. Mutur lies South across Kottiar Bay from Trincomalee
harbour. The same day angry Muslim demonstrators smashed up the L.T.T.E. office
in Mutur town. The L.T.T.E. denied responsibility for the killing. The effect
of the killing was to reawaken suspicions between the Muslims and Tamils of
the East.

Organising hartals (or work
stoppages) to stir up political feeling was commonplace in the North and East.
First the T.U.L.F. did it. Then each militant group had its independent hartals.
The L.T.T.E. claimed to be against hartals but nevertheless had them. The difference
was that "the people" organised them, and the L.T.T.E. generally left
people who went to work alone until lately. Earlier they were organised to protest
against the government. More recently their purpose was to mark the deaths in
battle of leading militants. From the time of the T.U.L.F., the success of hartals
required implicit force. For this reason it was also an act of self deception
by which the organisers would claim high popularity ratings. If all shops and
offices were closed, and transport stopped even to deter the sick from being
taken for treatment, the organisers would claim a hundred percent success. The
way they said it would betray the feeling that they, the sponsors, were also
hundred percent popular.

On 9 September, the Muslims
of Kalmunai organised a hartal to protest the murder of Mr. Habib Mohammed.
This went off peacefully. The L.T.T.E. announced its own hartal for the identical
cause to be observed on the following day.

In the morning hoodlums looted
and burnt Muslim shops in Kalmunai as armed men stood by. Muslim residents associated
the gunmen with the L.T.T.E.. Telephone messages were sent by the Muslim leaders
in Kalmunai to the I.P.K.F. at Akkaraipattu, asking them to to come to their
aid. According to a Muslim academic from Kalmunai, the I.P.K.F. came late around
2 o'clock in the afternoon after pressure was applied by Muslims at Akkaraipattu.
They came with one Velmurugan master who was again said by Muslim to be close
to the L.T.T.E.. The I.P.K.F. then proceeded to remove roadblocks put there
by Muslims to block traffic as a sign of protest. One Tamil school-teacher who
was there observed that the I.P.K.F. had acted ill-advisedly in removing those
road blocks. For if a militant group had organised a stoppage, a hint from them
would stop traffic on the roads. Everyone was afraid of guns. The I.P.K.F. had
never interfered with these. But the Muslims are not known for possessing gun-power.
Road blocks are for them the only means of enforcing a hartal and saving face.
Above the I.P.K.F.'s perceived tardiness in responding to the call by Muslims
for protection, the removal of road blocks was also seen as discriminatory.
As an overwhelmingly Hindu body, to play the role of peacekeepers, the I.P.K.F.
should have been prepared to show greater sensibility to Muslims. Qadri Ismail,
writing in the Colombo based Sunday Times, gave another angle to the events
in Kalmunai. He pointed out that the role of Tamil gunmen need not be blamed
on the high level policy of any particular militant group. The Kalmunai Mosque
stood on premises on which once stood a colony of low caste Tamils who had been
driven out by Muslims 20 years ago. There was an element of settling old scores
by descendants of the disinherited. The end result was to heighten tension and
distrust towards the Accord within the Muslim community.

On the night of 13 September,
the L.T.T.E. launched a surprise strike against members of other militant groups
in the Batticaloa district. Most of the victims were unarmed and had thought
themselves to be safe. According to press reports, about 70 of them were killed.
Several others sought shelter even with the once dreaded S.T.F.. The attack
was denied publicly by the L.T.T.E.. The L.T.T.E. had launched on a new reckless
course, pregnant with catastrophic consequences for everyone in the North and
East. The L.T.T.E. had committed an outrage which was an open secret buzzing
about the airwaves of the international news media. Those who defend the L.T.T.E.
would blame India, maintaining that India had plans to use the other groups
to destroy the L.T.T.E. while for the L.T.T.E. it was a case of do now or die
later. This would hardly justify a massacre of unarmed militants who would not
have known what hit them. Our experience with members of other militant groups
suggests that they were certainly angry with the L.T.T.E.. They wished to re-assert
their dignity and wanted the community to give them a place of respect. But
to suggest that they were incognate tools of India's would be an unfair overstatement.
A large number of them would have chosen reconciliation with the L.T.T.E. on
honourable terms if that course had been open. It would be more true to say
that the other groups were driven into India's hands by the position taken by
the L.T.T.E. and because of increasing rejection by the community. The two processes
were interdependent.

Politically, the L.T.T.E.
had been dissatisfied with the way things were developing. It had been offered
3 seats in an interim administrative council of 8. Two places went to the T.U.L.F.,
1 to another militant group and 2 were to be government employees. The interim
body was to administer the North and East until provincial council elections
could be held. That was expected to take anything from 6 months to a year. Whether
the interim council was going to administer or advise, and whether elections
would be held on a first past the post or on a proportional representation basis
were questions on which no clear answer had emerged. The L.T.T.E. had apparently
pitched its ambitions much higher than what the Indian and Sri Lankan governments
would allow or what the majority of Tamils considered prudent. The L.T.T.E.
was angling for sole control of the North and East, as evidenced in its past
conduct. They had displayed a capacity for astounding turns that had made headlines
and for the most incorrigible conduct which confounded whoever had dealings
with them. And their strength was a readiness to gamble with their own lives,
and incidentally with those of many others, in pursuit of their aims. The last
was symbolised by cyanide capsules. They had been gods. Good and Evil, Truth
and Falsehood, Friends and Enemies and even solemn pacts had little meaning
for them. Like the gods of ancient Hellas, they dwelt in an existentialist world;
in their own Mount Olympus, presided over by their own Zeus. What was on offer
for them now was the tame respectability of provincial dignitaries. They were
tempted as events would show, and yet uncomfortable and undecided. Just as they
had agreed to surrender their arms, they seemed amenable to agreeing to something
as a means of buying time.

Life had been relatively unexciting
after the Accord. Several of the L.T.T.E. leaders such as Kumarappa and Pulendran
had got married. They enjoyed the respectability of social life with senior
Indian army officers who joined in the nuptial festivities. There were beach
outings. Yet their self-image of virility was being sapped. They were being
treated increasingly like a Tiger whose claws had been blunted. Dignitaries
from the South, journalists, both local and foreign, were flocking in to see
them, as they would go to a zoo to see a caged animal. Should they be tamed,
they had nothing to fall back on. The people did not really love them. They
simply admired and obeyed them. But who would honour and obey a senile animal
that had lost its teeth and claws? This was worrying. What would an ancient
god do in a world that had been his domain, and which was now so changed as
to exclude him? Like the legendary Wotan in Niebelung's Ring, it was time for
a suicidal leap; to create some of the most obscene scenes in an effort to do
or die. They were once more going to revive their capacity to shock. They were
prepared to throw away all they had worked for - friendships cultivated assiduously
over months as well as numerous of lives. But, did the parties concerned have
other choices?

The fact that the Indians
were talking almost exclusively to the L.T.T.E. was an indication that they
had accepted the L.T.T.E. as a power that counted, and that to attempt to exclude
them would be taking too much trouble on themselves. This indication was strengthened
by later events. Behind all the Indian rhetoric during the October war, feelers
to the L.T.T.E. were being constantly made. Doubts continued to remain in the
public mind as to whether India was really serious about crushing the L.T.T.E..

Even if the L.T.T.E. had really
believed that its destruction was being sought, it could have moved to strengthen
its ties with the people. It could have admitted and apologised for past errors.
Terms for reconciliation with dignity could have been offered to other militant
groups. It could have moved to tolerate dissent and democratise its organisation.
Such moves would have made it difficult for any outside force to weaken it.
The L.T.T.E. enjoyed enough prestige to carry these through. Students at the
University of Jaffna and several intellectuals had been entreating the L.T.T.E.
for such gestures for over a year, only to be given the short shrift. Except
for the diehards, most militants from other groups would have been extremely
happy with such an offer. Under these conditions, few Tamils would have actively
worked against the L.T.T.E., other than those whose drive for vengeance was
very strong. But the L.T.T.E. chose rather a sensational use of violence in
a bid to demonstrate their immense potential to sour things.

The other militant groups
felt that they deserved a place of honour and that the L.T.T.E. was systematically
conspiring to disinherit them. In this most Tamils would have sympathised with
them. Their presence in certain areas was guaranteed by the Indian army. They
could have used this to their advantage. They could have made and stuck to a
public pledge that even if the L.T.T.E. did not wish to work with them, they
were against taking revenge on either the L.T.T.E. or its supporters. They could
have got actively involved in projects to help the local people. Instead of
harassing travellers, they could have printed and distributed leaflets through
them, appealing to the Tamil people to recognise their contribution and criticising
the L.T.T.E.'s stand. But many of them chose differently. In their frustration
they developed an antipathy towards the common Tamil people, especially those
from Jaffna, who were accused of being pro-L.T.T.E.. Bus passengers were regularly
harassed and frequently robbed. Extortion and robbery once again reappeared
in parts they inhabited. Vehicles were hijacked. As internecine killings increased,
they were driven to depend more and more on the Indian and Sri Lankan forces.
All this led to the strengthening of the stereotype image that the L.T.T.E.
was trying to pin on them.

The arrival of the Indian
Peace Keeping Force was widely welcomed by the Tamils of Ceylon. They had come
to preside over peace and not over war. They started by doing the right things.
Their conduct was disciplined even in a state of provocation. They defused landmines
left behind by the former antagonists. When Major Dilip Singh, Lieutenant Vickram
and Mohinder Rao from the Eighth Battalion (Engineers) died in a mine clearing
accident, there was universal grief in Jaffna. These men had given their lives
for the people of Jaffna. The mother of the last on being given the heart breaking
news of her son's death had reportedly remarked: "I am happy that he died
this way." How did it happen that by mid-September, the image of the I.P.K.F.
was looking tattered; and by the second week of October it had blundered itself
into killing Tamil civilians by the hundreds? Aspects of this question have
been dealt with in different parts of the volume.

By the middle of September,
developments stretching back over a month brought about a situation that was
anything but peaceful. Yet the Indian Peace Keeping Force had remained seemingly
inert. At first it looked as if the I.P.K.F. was offering protection to all
militant groups when they were escorted on request. Then internecine killings
started, people started to disappear and four clergymen were killed in Jaffna.
The position of the I.P.K.F. seemed to be that its brief was to retrieve arms
from militant groups and not to maintain law and order. The L.T.T.E. claimed
that it had trusted the I.P.K.F. to protect Tamils from the Sri Lankan army.
But instead, while the Sri Lankan army was still here, the I.P.K.F. was establishing
camps in places where the Sri Lankan army was nowhere about. Sinister motives
were hinted at. The Indian High Commissioner Mr. J. N. Dixit in an interview
with D. B. S. Jeyaraj published in the Sunday Island of 30 August, 1987, stated
that the I.P.K.F. was establishing the new camps to contain internecine fighting
between militant groups. He also stated that 65% of the arms including 85% of
the heavy weapons had been surrendered. Elsewhere he had said that 80% of the
arms had been surrendered.

It was the surrender of arms
that was of the greatest concern to the Sinhalese. The putsch by the L.T.T.E.
on the night of 13 September in Batticaloa and the continuing killings elsewhere
seemed to make these claims far less convincing. Not only did the L.T.T.E. seem
to possess plenty of arms, they seemed also to be able to move about freely
over a wide area notwithstanding the I.P.K.F., and use the arms against other
militants. As the L.T.T.E. became increasingly vocal and demonstrative in Jaffna,
especially after Thileepan's fast, passengers to and from Jaffna were increasingly
harassed by other militant groups between Kilinochchi and Jaffna while Indian
and Sri Lankan forces looked on.

On all counts the I.P.K.F.
was acquiring a sorry image. For the Sinhalese it was not retrieving arms. And
for the Tamils it was not maintaining peace. The L.T.T.E. propaganda machine
went to town on what was appearing to be a contradictory role of the I.P.K.F.,
spicing it up with colonisation, the slow release of prisoners and the increase
of crime.

Even more surprising was the
complacency of the I.P.K.F. in not going to the people to defend its role. It
had much to take credit for. The threat to civilian life through military action
had virtually ended. Freedom of movement for all Tamils, Muslims and Sinhalese
had been restored. In the Trincomalee district, Tamils could get back to lands
they were driven out of. There was a likelihood that town property that was
forcibly taken over by Sinhalese thugs with government blessing would be restored
to their owners. People were able to regain their homes in other Tamil areas
which had now been de-mined and made safe from shelling. Train services had
been restored. There was every prospect that rehabilitation work would commence
and that aid money would help those who had been ruined.

Furthermore, Tamil prisoners
were in fact being released. The delay could have been explained as coming from
technicalities. The problem of colonisation was being studied and particular
allegations were being investigated by I.P.K.F. officers. At least in one instance
in Batticaloa district, the I.P.K.F. had halted work on a scheme. The L.T.T.E.'s
actions could have been rationally attacked. The adequacy of powers given to
Tamil areas under the Accord could have been patiently explained and the L.T.T.E.
could have been asked to trust the people to decide when elections are held.
Further, the Indian authorities could have addressed regular press conferences
and seminars in the Tamil areas and could have had consultations with independent
sections of Tamil opinion. The latter would have provided the means of correcting
errors, avoiding blunders and understanding their unfamiliar environment.

If the Indians had attempted
to use the press, that would have been understood. But when the I.P.K.F. on
10 October, 1987, detained newspapermen from two newspapers and reportedly damaged
the machinery, that was seen by the public as a rowdy and unjustifiable act.
Newspapers in Jaffna had got used to bending in the face of authority while
fancying themselves not to break. It was said that some newspapers which respected
independence, avoided trouble by reserving the front and back pages for obligatory
material, while publishing independent material in the inner pages. But the
people apparently came so low down the list of Indian concerns, that they were
freely given over to the L.T.T.E. to play with their emotions. Anyone who witnessed
the highly volatile scenes which followed, could not but help feeling that we
had blundered on to the edge of a volcano.

The I.P.K.F. stuck to dealing
with the L.T.T.E. exclusively with increasing exasperation. The L.T.T.E. had
no particular obligation to stick to one position. It was free to play with
the Indian authorities on one hand and the people on the other as long as no
tangible link (except the L.T.T.E. itself) existed between the Indian authorities
and the Tamil people. When dealings with the L.T.T.E. yielded little more than
exasperation, the framework in which the Indians operated led them into a war
for which they were ill prepared.

All actors were imprisoned
in mental frames into which they had been led by past choices. Sorely lacking
were individuals with the strength of character to leap out of the incubus of
history to turn the tide. All were being sucked into a chasm where they would
lose control of events.

The L.T.T.E. was now set on
a desperate course. It was prepared to offend the minimal norms of human communication.
In an interview given by Mahattaya and the L.T.T.E. spokesman Anton Balasingam
to Jehan Haniff of the Sunday Island, the L.T.T.E. was questioned about the
killings of 70 militants in the Batticaloa district and about the surrender
of arms. In reply Balasingam said that the L.T.T.E. had surrendered all its
arms and that the killings in Batticaloa had resulted from fighting between
dissident militant groups. Interestingly, Balasingam made reference to Mahattaya
before answering these questions. Balasingam's position within the organisation
was something of an enigma. He was known to refer to the L.T.T.E. as a mafia-type
organisation. On one occasion he was quoted widely to this effect in the press
including that in Jaffna. No attempt was made by the L.T.T.E. to contradict
this. It is known from sources close to the organisation that despite a stormy
relationship, he and Prabhakaran needed each other.

9.2 The Fast

On
15 September, Mr. Thileepan, the Jaffna chief of the L.T.T.E.'s political wing
started his death fast near Nallur Kandasamy temple. A platform was set up and
Thileepan and his helpers were on it. Five demands were put forward, two of
which dealt with colonisation and the release of prisoners. The fast was at
first not taken seriously. The Indians calculated that it would end as fasts
normally do, and hoped to ride it out by ignoring it. It took some time before
it sank in that Thileepan was not taking even water. All India Radio broadcast
a statement by the government spokesman which said that as a leader with a cause,
Mahatma Gandhi undertook fasts to death himself; he did not send in one of his
assistants to undergo the ordeal and sit back. But the emotional climate was
being stirred up so much that it had little impact. When things were looking
like they were getting out of hand, the Indians started talks with the L.T.T.E..
Tamil Nadu politicians Pandruti Ramachandran and Nedumaran arrived on the scene.
Indian officers too started visiting Thileepan. Shortly before Thileepan began
his fast he made a remarkable speech in front of Jaffna fort, giving a singular
twist to Tamil nationalist history. "Accords," he said, "have
been brought about by our enemies to dampen national fervour whenever this shows
signs of boiling over. Today, the Indo-Lanka accord is meant to suppress the
thirst of the people for liberation." He then pointed his finger histrionically
at the Jaffna Fort and continued: "The first inhabitants of this were the
Dutch and they enslaved us anew. Then came likewise the Sinhalese and now the
Indians with new accords and new promises. Our aim is to chase away the Indians
and fly our own flag of freedom in this Fort." This rousing speech may
have gone down in history if not for the utter disillusionment which followed
in October.

At first Thileepan's fast
looked like a gimmick meant to divert attention from the killings in the East.
The L.T.T.E. quickly used its organisational capacity to build up the emotional
momentum. Loudspeaker vehicles went about broadcasting maudlin sentiments. Public
transport vehicles were used to ferry in crowds. Long distance marchers converged
on Kandasamy Kovil. Heart-rending cries over loudspeakers and sobbing noises
had their effect. The cry "Thileepan anna (elder brother)," rising
to a high pitch became familiar around Jaffna. The feeling was drummed up that
such a fine man as Thileepan was going to die only because the Indians had cheated
the Tamils and were only here to help the Jayewardene government.

The hartals or stoppages called
for in Jaffna during Thileepan's fast disrupted public transport and made train
services irregular. The other militant groups interpreted the press coverage
and the rallies in Jaffna as a pro-L.T.T.E. gesture, unmindful of what the L.T.T.E.
had done to them. Their attitude assumed an abusive anti-Jaffna stance. They
decided that if people in Jaffna were going to travel just when it suited the
L.T.T.E., then they too were going to allow people to travel only when it suited
them. Train services stopped at Kilinochchi and passengers were stranded without
a bus service to complete the rest of the journey. Hiring cars charged as much
as Rs.500/- per passenger to complete the remaining 40 miles to Jaffna. To many
travellers the harassment by the E.N.D.L.F. seemed Indian instigated, as a way
of hitting back for the anti-Indian hysteria being created by the L.T.T.E. in
Jaffna.

Clearly the difficulties of
travellers owed much to the capriciousness of the L.T.T.E.. The Indians could
have exposed this by trying to be helpful to those in difficulty. But they instead
appeared in vindictive light by identifying the Jaffna people with the L.T.T.E..
This further incensed feelings in Jaffna and played into the hands of the L.T.T.E..

Emotional crowds at road junctions
were once more in vogue. These were the same crowds that welcomed with tears
the Indian Red Cross team less than 3 months before. Jaffna had been rendered
even more unprincipled and volatile by liberation politics. But to call the
crowds anti-Indian would have been a misrepresentation. India was still the
holy mother. The people were an angry child hitting and screaming at the mother
to have its way. The L.T.T.E. instigated crowds to humiliate the Indian army.
At Manthikai crowds of women threw stones at the Indian army. Personal insults
were flung at Indian soldiers -- like stroking the beard of a Sikh soldiers
and calling him a half-beedi man (beedi is a cheaper form of cigarette) The
Indian soldiers were highly restrained. The only shooting took place in Manner.

In Mannar a crowd marched
towards an I.P.K.F. camp along the road from Mannar to Talai Mannar, urged on
by an L.T.T.E. loudspeaker from a car. Once the crowd was highly strung with
shouting slogans, the loudspeaker car instigated the crowd to march on the camp.
An Indian officer came out and begged the crowd with folded hands not to advance
beyond a certain point. The loudspeaker kept up its harangue and the men behind
fired and killed one man in the vanguard of the crowd. The crowd quickly dispersed.

At this time a group of Sinhalese
visited Jaffna on a peace mission. The party included Mr. Shelton Ranaraja,
Deputy Minister for Justice, the Rev. Fr. Yohan Devananda and several doctors
including the G.M.O.A. Secretary Dr. Ratnapriya. Shelton Ranarajah, though holding
a junior ministerial position in the ruling United National Party, held publicly
expressed independent and liberal views on the ethnic question. For him it was
a pilgrimage of reconciliation with a view to seeing and understanding. He came
despite the risk to himself as an unprotected member of the government, coming
during a highly strung period. The doctors had brought medical supplies to hold
clinics. Many Sinhalese with a left wing bent had come to admire the L.T.T.E.
as an effective revolutionary force. These Sinhalese had campaigned against
the government without major success. The government had found means of neutralising
their influence while allowing them a respectable existence. For them the remarkable
success of the L.T.T.E. was a revelation. That the success followed in the wake
of risks taken by no other leaders in this country, was to be admired. The deceit,
murder and inhumanity involved in that success was taken to be of no account.
A Sinhalese clergyman, who was an admirer of the L.T.T.E.'s, once told a Tamil
clergyman: "They are doing the fighting. You have no moral right to criticise
them." Even as a clergyman, he little realised that in the political climate
of the times, much courage was needed to preserve our sense of values as a community.
This kind of moral fight too involved risks as the hundreds of internal killings
within and without the militant groups had testified.

Some of the most provocative
incidents in Jaffna took place on Friday, 18 September. At Manthikai, the Pt.
Pedro police station which was manned by the Ceylon Police was attacked by crowds
egged on by agent provocateurs. The police station was burnt and the policemen
were humiliated. The I.P.K.F. nearby did nothing to stop it. The policemen were
made to march towards the army camp in Pt. Pedro carrying their belongings on
their heads. A crowd shouting abuse followed behind. The vast majority of people
were silent spectators. Many who saw the sorry looking policemen were alarmed
and saddened. The policemen had done nothing since assuming duties in Pt. Pedro
to deserve such treatment. Many common people observed that we as a community
were going to pay for this.

The peace mission from the
South had come as guests of the L.T.T.E. leader. A hartal was declared on 18
September. Members of the peace mission obtained a special pass from Sri Mahattaya
to drive their vehicle into Vadamaratchi. They witnessed some of the worst scenes
on that day. They saw a police vehicle burning at Pt. Pedro. At Valvettithurai
they saw a crowd in front of the police station shouting abuse. The peace mission
was manoeuvred in front of the crowd to face angry policemen who were armed.
The scene was very provoking to the police. A smashed chair belonging to the
police station lay before them. On learning that those now standing in front
of the crowd were Sinhalese, the policemen shouted angrily at them: "You
are the ones who brought them here." Members of the peace mission felt
that the police may open fire any time and that they would then be the first
victims. As they went away, they met an L.T.T.E. man loading a magazine into
his automatic. He told them derisively: "You got scared, didn't you?"
They saw a similar scene at the Sri Lankan army camp in Valvettithurai. An abusive
crowd stood in front of the camp. A drunken, gesticulating soldier stood before
the crowd returning the abuse. An officer came out and dragged the drunken soldier
away. It was clear that the L.T.T.E. was angling for a scene where one of the
armed forces would open fire leaving several dead civilians on the road. What
a nice story that would have made around the world: "In the middle of a
non-violent struggle with a Gandhian style fast going on, Indian and/or Sri
Lankan forces open fire and kill innocent civilians!" It was also clear
that the Indian and Sri Lankan forces were just barely controlling themselves.

The peace mission was to return
to Colombo the following day. Since a hartal was on, they obtained permission
to travel in their two vehicles. All the way from Jaffna, they were followed
by a van past several sentry points manned by the L.T.T.E.. There could be little
mistake about the identity of the persons in the van that followed. Past Pallai,
this van overtook them. At Yakkachchi (4 miles before Elephant Pass) this van
was parked on the road. A few yards away, the peace mission was stopped by 6
youths armed with grenades and machine guns. The peace mission was addressed
abusively and some were dragged out of their vehicles. The peace mission was
left stranded without even their baggage. The vehicle which followed them, together
with the two hijacked vehicles returned towards Pallai. The parting shot from
the hijackers was, "We are Rajan's group (E.N.D.L.F.)." If one could
play the game, so can two. What the E.N.D.L.F. did south of Elephant Pass, the
L.T.T.E. did to the north, putting the blame on the E.N.D.L.F.. It was generally
known that North of Elephant Pass was territory jealously controlled by the
L.T.T.E.. Members of the peace mission caught a South bound bus after walking
two miles towards Elephant Pass.

The treatment of the mission
was in tune with the course the L.T.T.E. was taking. The mission came on an
invitation made by the L.T.T.E. sometime previously. If the L.T.T.E. had changed
its mind on the usefulness of well disposed Sinhalese, it could have told them
not to come. But to have them, talk to them nicely and treat them in this manner
at parting was a rather prolix way of saying: "We have finished with you.
Do not bother to come again." The action had the L.T.T.E.'s stamp on it.
If the L.T.T.E. ever needed Sinhalese friends again, such as after their war
with India, its leaders would have no difficulty. All they would need to do
is blame such actions and the killings of Sinhalese on some hot heads who had
since been disciplined, and then resume relationships as though nothing untoward
had happened.

To Mr. Shelton Ranaraja's
credit, when he answered questions in parliament, he was a sad, rather than
a bitter or angry man. Many Tamils like to blame the Indian offensive of October,
together with the killings of Sinhalese from 5 October on the Sri Lankan government.
They say that all the trouble was caused by the Sri Lankan government attempting
to transport 17 L.T.T.E. members to Colombo and provoking them into taking cyanide.
But the events which began on 13 September and the dramatic events described
above signalled what was coming. The L.T.T.E. had given up on trying to cultivate
Sinhalese friends. Its capacity to shock was one of the L.T.T.E.'s most potent
weapons. Friendship with the L.T.T.E. was a strange and self-flattering affair.
In the course of the coming days dire hints were dropped for the benefit of
several old friends who had for months sat on committees, given advice, drafted
letters, addressed meetings and had placed themselves at the L.T.T.E.'s beck
and call.

A report written by the peace
mission for the Christian Worker (in the issues of the 2nd and 3rd quarters
of 1987) had the tone of reflective disillusionment: "... It so appears
that the gun tends to evolve a logic of it own, turning its user into an extension
of itself... Rational thought and human communication are subsumed in the final
solution offered by the gun. We have already seen this on a massive scale in
Lebanon. Now do we ourselves have to go through a very personalised reproduction
of a similar situation where everybody seems to be shooting at everybody else?
Sri Lankan politics has always appeared to many as a pantomime. But now the
drama seems to be turning rapidly into a tragedy on a large scale. We can but
hope that firm action will avert it." Very prophetic words to be fulfilled
hardly a fortnight later.

Before Thileepan lost consciousness,
he aired some of his religious hopes. He would go to a heavenly abode, he said,
where he would join the 650 or so martyrs from the L.T.T.E.. Then with the joy
that is reserved for these chosen ones, he would look down upon the land of
Tamil Eelam. There is little doubt that he believed in something like this undemocratic
and unegalitarian of creeds. It took some time for it to sink down that Thileepan
was dying a slow and excruciating death. It was presented in such a manner as
to touch the religious sensibilities of the Tamils. Being next to Kandasamy
Kovil, the scene was right for a momentous religious event. Saivite devotional
songs called Thevarams were sung. Sombre women with tear stained faces were
there. Over its television network Niedharshanam, the L.T.T.E. merged the images
of Thileepan and Mahatma Gandhi. Many were taken in. A Western diplomat who
visited the scene observed blankly, "it looked to me like a stage set for
the Gandhi film."

The L.T.T.E. betrayed a misconception
of a non-violent struggle for which it can not be blamed. This misconception
was common even amongst educated Tamils. The Federal Party (the T.U.L.F.'s main
predecessor) launched a satyagraha campaign for Tamil rights in early 1961.
This took mainly the form of sit-ins in front of government offices in the North
and East, and long marches. There were mass meetings at which students queued
up to sign petitions in blood. The police made strenuous efforts for a few days
to disperse the crowds. But the crowds withstood the police baton charges. This
was an exhilarating moment. During the 1958 riots the Tamils had acquired a
reputation for being cowards who get beaten and run away. The helplessness of
the Tamils then seems to have inflamed the violent Sinhalese hoodlums to ask
for more blood. Many of the elderly in Colombo tasted the sting of racial violence.
In 1961 the Tamil satyagrahis had proved that the Tamils were as a people not
cowards. They were prepared to withstand pain and injury in order to win their
dignity and rights as equal citizens. Scenes of selfless courage were in evidence
everywhere. Men fell down on the road before military trucks and stayed their
ground until they were beaten and dragged senseless to a side. People were once
more proud to call themselves Tamils. After the first few days the then government
of Mrs. Bandaranaike's, decided to ignore the satyagraha campaign. The campaign
dragged on for 3 months and was ended by the imposition of a state of emergency
and the use of force that was mild by today's standards. An insider claimed
that the organisers were embarrassed by the prolongation of the campaign and
by difficulties in finding alternatives to government rice rations which were
stopped by the closure of the administration. They thus adopted measures such
as the printing of postage stamps and starting a mail service, which would compel
the government either to talk seriously or end the campaign by force. The government
chose the latter only to have the problem fester and erupt into violence a quarter
century later. It fell to another generation to revive the spirit of courage
and self sacrifice. Besides, in the use of methods there was another important
difference. In 1961 the people and their leaders stood together and suffered
voluntarily. Though the F.P. and the T.U.L.F. continued to claim non-violence
as a policy, they put off action for a future appropriate time in the future.

The result was a serious
general misunderstanding of non-violence. Non-violence and violence were regarded
as two alternative means to the same political end. Only the latter may need
plenty of money and prove more hurtful. That they morally meant two different
things was lost sight of. All that seemed to be required was to find the most
efficacious means disregarding moral implications. The most important aspect of non-violence was lost sight
of - that of self-purification together with honesty and integrity even in small
things; that it involved love and respect for life rather than a coward's desire
to avoid inflicting pain because of the trouble that may result. In consequence,
once people got through with sitting in front of the Kachcheri, the old bad
ways continued. Nor did they love the Sinhalese any better for it. The rich
lording it over and humiliating the poor, caste pride, spiritual, administrative,
and physical thuggery, all continued as before only to become worse with time.

When things went on in
this manner it was to be expected that non-violence would be discredited in
the eyes of the young while in fact it had never been tried. Young militants
in the 1980's too may be forgiven for uttering with brazen confidence that non-violence
had been rejected by the people as unworkable. Whether violence worked was a
question few bothered to ask. The misconception was evident when the L.T.T.E.
claimed that it was supreme master in the use of violent as well as nonviolent
means and that it was equally at home in both methods. That it was master of
violence was an accepted fact. Thileepan's ordeal was now proving to the masses
that the L.T.T.E. was also master of non-violence. Violence and non-violence
were here being treated as morally indistinct tools. Even amongst those who
were against the L.T.T.E.'s violence, Thileepan's fast touched sensitive chords.

But the scenario being gradually
built up by the L.T.T.E. was an essentially violent one. Crowds marching to
Nallur from distant places were made to shout menacing slogans by loudspeaker
cars. Prominent among the slogans were: "Prabhakaran is our leader,"
and "If Thileepan dies, Tamil Eelam will become an exploding volcano."
The first kept Mr. Prabhakaran in the picture while the limelight was on Thileepan.
No one knew what exactly the second meant. Those who closely watched the proceedings
at Kandasamy temple, came away with different impressions. Some praised Thileepan's
determination. Some blamed the L.T.T.E. of deliberately putting Thileepan through
the ordeal of a slow and painful death. There were allusions that Thileepan
himself had left instructions while he was still in his proper senses, that
should he ask for water as weakness made him lose control over his will; such
a request should be ignored. However, everyone hoped that Prabhakaran would
take pity and order the fast called off. This was not to be. Prabhakaran's position
remained that the fast had been voluntarily undertaken to secure five demands
make to the Indians. Therefore India will be fully responsible for Thileepan's
fate. Whatever Thileepan had decided, an element of complexity was revealed
when a community leader raised with a senior L.T.T.E. official the question
of reviving Thileepan who was by now unconscious. He was told that they had
taken a final decision on the matter. The external factors seemed to suggest
that this was the case. This surmise would be strengthened when 12 L.T.T.E.
men committed suicide on 5 October. It looked as if the L.T.T.E. had decided
that Tamil Eelam should become a burning volcano.

In the meantime the Indians
had started a series of talks with the L.T.T.E.. Those on the Indian side included
the High Commissioner Mr. Dixit, his deputy Mr. Sen and Lt. General Depinder
Singh, Chief of the Indian Army's Southern Command. Those representing the L.T.T.E.
included Prabhakaran, Balasingam and Sri Mahattaya. By all accounts it was not
cocktail diplomacy. It was like schoolmaster India attempting to verbally lash
into line an incorrigible schoolboy whom he would like thrown out but cannot.
Mr. Dixit must have found Ceylon a strange place in which to practise Parisian
diplomatic etiquette. A senior minister in the government in Colombo of the
gentler kind, once reportedly complained to a friend after meeting Mr. Dixit:
"I felt like having been treated like a pick-pocket in my own home."

The L.T.T.E. was evidently
pressing for majority representation in an interim council for the North and
East, which given the circumstances would be around for a long time. This elicited
Dixit's remark: "Interim is interim." The L.T.T.E. evidently wanted
elections put off for a long time. The L.T.T.E. had also expressed a wish to
have control over Police and Colonisation. The Indians had strongly objected
to the use of the press to whip up anti-Indian feeling. On this matter as pointed
out earlier, the Indians seemed unable to think of an alternative to pummelling
the L.T.T.E.. They were not thinking in terms of a direct approach to the people.
In depending totally on their ability to awe or bully the L.T.T.E. into line,
they were walking on miry ground. A journalist who was present described a scene
where Depinder Singh challenged the L.T.T.E. concerning freedom of the press
in Jaffna. He was assured that it was indeed free. General Singh then asked
if a statement given by him would be published. Thinking perhaps that Gen. Singh
wished to address the people, the L.T.T.E. readily agreed. Then Gen. Singh pulled
out a letter from his pocket and asked sternly if it would be published. The
letter was from the father of Douglas Devananda, a senior E.P.R.L.F. leader,
whose brother Premananda was kidnapped shortly after the Accord. There was an
embarrassed silence. Gen. Singh continued, saying that there was sometimes censorship
in India. But what prevailed in Jaffna was unheard of. Gen. Singh hardly knew
of the Indian censorship that would descend on Jaffna after October 1987.

The L.T.T.E. organised a big
demonstration on Thursday, 24 September, 1987, when processions converged on
Jaffna Fort to present petitions to the I.P.K.F.. The crowds were basically
emotional and had little understanding of the issues involved. An Indian officer
who was receiving petitions, suddenly unrolled a large map of Ceylon. He asked
those present: "You are complaining strongly about Sinhalese colonisation.
Show us exactly where it is taking place and we will put a stop to it."
There was some confusion and puzzlement. Some hesitantly pointed to places.
The women at the demonstration were being quite expressive. One woman with a
loud voice referred to the Indian Prime Minister as "The dog born of Indira".
The Indian officer turned to a senior engineering foreman who was there and
asked him: "Why are your people so angry and insulting towards us?"
The engineering foreman tried to reassure him: "Some may express their
feelings too strongly. But we would always love India. India is our mother."

In the light of what happened
later, it may be well to reflect here on the feelings of Indian soldiers. Most
of the latter were from very poor backgrounds. When they arrived in Ceylon,
they had a vague idea that they had come to protect Tamils from the Sri Lankan
army. They had also expected to see a pitifully downtrodden population. But
what they saw in Jaffna was contrary to expectations. There was little to do
in the way of protecting Tamils. After the Accord, the Sri Lankan army were
only too happy to behave themselves. Instead of uniform unrelieved, poverty,
there was a fairly large well-to-do middle-class. Most people dressed well and
lived in reasonable comfort. Unlike in India where each village may have just
one television set, every other home in Jaffna had colour television. Shops
were stocked with modern Japanese goods. Most homes had their wells, their water
sealed lavatories and electricity supply as a bare minimum. They wondered why
the Indian government had made such a fuss about Jaffna. Indian propaganda must
have surely had a bewildering effect on the Jawans
[1] 1 . In its twists and turns, one day the L.T.T.E.
would be a murderous evil force. Soon afterwards they would become gallant men
of vision.

When the I.P.K.F. first arrived,
soldiers expressed their surprise. Tamil Nadu Jawans observed with wonder: "This
is a fertile place." Malayali Jawans said to the effect: "This place
reminds us of Kerala." Those from North India perhaps thought that this
was a strange place which was vaguely like the South. Only the shops reminded
them of what is said about Singapore. For the first few weeks, the I.P.K.F.
was preoccupied with the shops in Kasturiar Road. The officers bought Japanese
TV sets, video recorders and 3-in-1's. The Jawans looked for radio-cassettes,
pen torches and ball point pens. As the weeks went by, some Jawans told civilians:
"We thought we came to protect you from the Sinhalese. But all we see is
your boys killing each other. We do not see any Sinhalese." The colonisation
problem too did not make sense to Indian soldiers. They found it difficult to
appreciate the problem of state sponsored colonisation. They would say: "What
is the difficulty with Sinhalese in your areas? In India we have Tamil Nadu
people in Maharashtra, Maharashtra people in Delhi, Delhi people in Karnataka
and so on. There is no difficulty in that!" With Thileepan's fast, people
were instigated by the L.T.T.E. to insult and humiliate Indian soldiers. Soldiers
from Punjab and Rajasthan who had no stake in what was going on here, no understanding
and cared even less, were ordered to put on a stiff upper lip and take it all,
much against their natural impulses. Their anger is not hard to imagine: "First
we were asked to come and save these people. We then find that these people
were quite well off and lived much better than our people. They start killing
each other and now come and throw stones at and insult us for no conceivable
reason. Moreover they have the cheek to do this after eating our food."

Anyone would have known the
consequences of the L.T.T.E.'s pushing an army smarting under such provocation
into military action. After turning Tamil Eelam into a burning volcano, Prabhakaran
would say with disarming gravity: "Now that we have been compelled to defend
ourselves militarily, India must assume full responsibility for whatever ill
befalls the civilian population."

When it became clear that
Thileepan would die and that the likelihood of volcanic eruptions in Jaffna
could not be dismissed, guessing was on as to how this would happen. Speculation
and fear became ripe in certain quarters on the basis of a brick dropped in
the hospital by a person considered fairly high up in the L.T.T.E.. He reportedly
dropped dark hints about the fate that would overtake those officials who garlanded
the Indian Red Cross, in the event of Thileepan's dying. The list of those who
welcomed the Indian Red Cross included besides the L.T.T.E., many of the senior
doctors, senior government officials and members of the Jaffna Citizens' Committee.
The existence of a threat was not taken lightly. These and other persons in
the administrative and academic elite who had earlier thought that their relationship
with the L.T.T.E., though uncomfortable, was fair, were keeping their fingers
crossed.

Thileepan died on Saturday,
26 September, the 12th day of his fast. On the same morning it had been announced
that the negotiations had borne fruit. This may be an important reason why the
death did not lead to an eruption. The crowd at the Nallur Kandasamy Kovil watched,
tense but silent, as a doctor felt Thileepan's pulse. The doctor motioned Thileepan's
father to cry. The people standing around were then urged to cry. The whole
crowd wept. The tension was defused. Not a stone was thrown. Not a vehicle burnt.
The moment of Thileepan's exit was touchingly dignified. Old Gandhians who had
thought that non-violence was dead were profoundly moved. They even started
saying confidently that Thileepan was different from the rest. He was not responsible
for acts of violence, they added. The solemn manner in which the crowd received
the news of his death, they hoped, was a sure sign that the Tamils had turned
back to the old Gandhian way of non-violence. Thileepan's family too almost
certainly believed this. They contacted an old Gandhian to write an appreciation.
It was gladly done and it echoed these sentiments. It seemed bad taste to strike
a discordant note. Even those whose experience of Thileepan had not been of
the pleasant kind would not say otherwise. Whether a voluntary act, an act of
supreme obedience or an act of unprobed complexity, Thileepan's death excited
awe. Perhaps, many in torture cells had died more painful and more heroic deaths,
even in militant ruled Jaffna. But publicity made the difference. Columnists
in the South who were no friends of the L.T.T.E.'s, could not resist a hint
of admiration. Lucien Rajakarunayake writing in the Sunday Times of 4 October,
1987, compared Thileepan favourably with the chauvinists of the South who were
eternally promising to shed the last drop of their blood before the first in
the cause of Sinhalese supremacy, all the way down from the days of the Bhasa
Twins - Jayasuriya and Rajaratne. Lucian Rajakarunayake went on:

"I
do not agree with Thileepan's cause, nor have I ever agreed with the similarly
motivated causes of most others on this side who have threatened death fasts
or begun great walks for peace with lottery tickets on the sideline. However,
one cannot help but be impressed by the extent of political dedication, even
misguided, when a slow death is courted by one, when others are satisfied watching
the other man's son die for the success of their selfish slogans.

"Mind
you, if the Sinhalese begin to ask their politicians and other racial champions,
who make such loud noises and promises of sacrifice on public platforms, if
they are prepared to go half the distance Thileepan went in hunger, it may help
get rid of the political poseurs who strut about in the garb of Sinhalese heroes,
and by the curious identification of the majority only with the nation, as national
heroes, as well."

When the agreement reached
between India and the L.T.T.E. was announced on Monday, 28 September, after
obtaining the Sri Lankan President's concurrence, it had little to say on the
5 demands put forward over Thileepan's fast. The membership of the interim council
was increased from 8 to 12 and the L.T.T.E.'s representation increased from
3 to 7, giving it a majority. The L.T.T.E. agreed in writing to submit 15 names,
including 3 for the chairman, from which the President of Sri Lanka would choose
the required number. The people were relieved.

Why then did Thileepan die?
That was a question for which no satisfactory explanation could be found. From
the point of view of Tamils as a whole, the actual results were hardly a gain.
Even in the council of 8 proposed earlier, the Tamils would have been in the
majority, amongst whom there would have been a convergence of views on key issues.
The difference in the new agreement was a majority for the L.T.T.E. by itself,
until the mandatory elections were held. The only concrete achievement was a
demonstration by the L.T.T.E. that its power to sour things for anyone choosing
to act without its consent was hardly to be scoffed at.

Thileepan had not suddenly
changed to non-violence. He was very much a part of the violent scene, as leader
of the political wing of the L.T.T.E. in Jaffna. But he was a dedicated L.T.T.E.
man who had spent the prime of his life in its service. It would be truly remarkable
if he had knowingly thrown away his life for such meagre returns. Jaffna is
a place where cynicism has reigned for so long that nothing is taken at face
value. There have been several cases of persons in militant groups who had become
frustrated and who simply carried on for the lack of an alternative, caring
little whether they lived or died. There are those who would assume that Thileepan
was one of them. A more plausible explanation coming from some others is that
when the fast was undertaken, Thileepan was not told that he would die. Even
if nothing was coming in the way of response to the demands, Prabhakaran could
solemnly call off the fast in deference to the wishes of the people. Once Thileepan
had started fasting on a public platform, he had little control over events.
Whatever he wished, the decision was left to others.

It is perhaps uncharitable
to speculate on the motives of dead men. Whatever was in Thileepan's mind, the
cynicism of others cannot be discounted. On the testimony of those who knew
Thileepan, he was certainly capable of sacrificing himself for a cause in which
he believed. He was certainly not a non-violent man. As late as 2 July, 1987,
Thileepan took part in a lamp-post killing at Urumpirai junction. During the
fast he gave expression to the L.T.T.E.'s religious creed. Thileepan was seriously
wounded in the abdomen during the Vadamaratchi operation. It is known that,
at least after this, he was emotionally sensitive.

Shortly before his final fast,
Thileepan went to the Eelanadu office to complain about an editorial which had
said: "Whether the Elephant comes or the Tiger comes, the Accord must be
implemented." The elephant is the symbol of the ruling party, U.N.P..The
senior person who was on duty that night told him with some force: "You
have misunderstood this. You know the editor is a reasonable and highly respected
man who was principal of your old school (Jaffna Hindu College). If you talk
to him, he will explain things to you." Thileepan stared at the ground
for some time. He then exclaimed: "Do not crush us," and walked away.
This encounter betrayed a feeling amongst the Tigers that the Tamil people who
once gave them flattering devotion were now distancing themselves - hence the
need for desperate measures. The Thileepan of September 1987 was not the same
Thileepan who stood four square at the University during a peace meeting in
mid 1986, arrogantly insisting on the paramountcy of the L.T.T.E.. His words
had then come not from the logic of Tamil unity or Tamil well being, but from
the logic of power. Given this new emotional sensitivity, how did changes within
the L.T.T.E. affect him? A journalist who was Thileepan's class mate at Jaffna
Hindu College and also knew Yogi who was a little senior to them both, had this
to say: "Thileepan was from the time I knew him, a man with dedication.
He did fully believe in the cause of the Tamil militancy." This journalist,
who is not an L.T.T.E. sympathiser, had little doubt that Thileepan died more
or less voluntarily. Yogi's association with the L.T.T.E. in London was relatively
brief. His main asset was that he was the elder brother of the late Kugan, Prabhakaran's
deputy, whom Prabhakaran trusted completely. Unlike Yogi, Thileepan had been
on the ground during a difficult period and had served loyally for a long time.
Those who would like to pin on Thileepan, the image of an orthodox Gandhian
martyr or even that of the unquestioning obedient servant, would probably do
him injustice as a human being with human feelings. Amongst ordinary people,
there was much sympathy for Thileepan and not all of it was complimentary to
Prabhakaran. However, Thileepan was soon to be forgotten amidst other events.

9.3 Towards Confrontation

The L.T.T.E. expressed dissatisfaction when it
submitted fifteen names for the interim council and the President made his choice.
Mr. N. Pathmanathan, Additional Government Agent, Trincomalee, whom the L.T.T.E.
had named as its first choice for the chairmanship of the Interim Council was
dropped in favour of Mr. C.V.K. Sivagnanam, Municipal Commissioner, Jaffna.
Amongst those remaining there was no one from the Eastern Province, although
the L.T.T.E. had submitted the name of an Eastern Province Muslim and others
from the East amongst the 7 leading names. Mr. Sivagnanam, reportedly under
pressure, sent a letter turning down the appointment. It appeared to most Tamils
that the President had made his choice in such a way as would alienate the Tamils
and Muslims in the East from the northern Tamils. Moreover, N. Pathmanathan
was an experienced and competent administrator. Mr. Sivagnanam's main achievement
was to perform the demanding task of being the government's commissioner in
an L.T.T.E. dominated Jaffna. He seldom displeased anyone, was not known for
any particular principled stand, but had a mind of his own on certain matters.
He could move with decision where his own ambitions could be made to fit the
aims of the powerful interest groups he had to contend with. To many, the manner
in which the L.T.T.E. looked upon his appointment, was a revelation about its
relationships with public men.

N. Pathmanathan had been released
from prison on 2 September, 1987, after being detained for 45 months under the
prevention of terrorism act. He was a Grade 1 C.A.S. (Ceylon Administrative
Service) officer who had served as the Additional Government Agent, Trincomalee
under a Grade 2 Sinhalese officer. He was arrested in December 1983 and was
notified of his charge more than 2 years later. The charge was peculiar to the
P.T.A. and did not involve any first or second hand criminal act. The crime
involved was the alleged provision of help for some Tamil prisoners who had
escaped from Batticaloa prison. Pathmanathan is said to have been in the know
of some person who in turn was in the know of such help being given! Pathmanathan
was not taken to trial. He was detained for much longer than the mandatory limit
of 18 months in the hope that he would plead guilty. Pathmanathan was determined
not to plead guilty to something he had not done. While in prison he studied
law and interested himself in the welfare of other prisoners who were utterly
innocent and were languishing in prison because the system moved clumsily and
many of the prisoners did not have the money to do the needful. His determination
was such that the government had to drop the charges and release him. A senior
civil servant who had worked with Pathmanathan stated that, "he was an
extremely intelligent man and a committed Tamil."

It is understandable that
the President did not wish to elevate such a man to the chairmanship of the
interim council. It is interesting that the same device of asking for a list
of names in place of one nominee is used to avoid appointing inconvenient vice-chancellors
of Universities. The Indian High Commissioner held that the L.T.T.E. was wrong
to complain as the matter had been explained to them and they had agreed in
writing. The Tamil public felt cheated. But the L.T.T.E. had little reason to
complain. Many would contend that Mr. Dixit had taken for a ride a ragged group
of fighting men who were innocent of legal matters. Such a charge would not
hold water as the L.T.T.E. had all the legal advice it needed at its disposal.
They had the services of two lawyers, one of whom at least was recognised as
competent and experienced. Anton Balasingam had held an academic post in Philosophy
in Britain. Yogi was a student in Britain. It is unbelievable that they were
unable to sort out among themselves, the consequences of what the L.T.T.E. was
putting down in writing. Mr. Dixit may not have been excessively polite towards
the L.T.T.E.. He may have been overconfident that he could handle them, or perhaps
he hid his uncertainties beneath a facade of contempt. It was natural that he
should feel more at home with the Colombo elite, whose first language and background
he shared. Understanding what motivated them, his success with them had been
remarkable, even when his office changed from Ambassador to Proconsul. He had
perhaps at least begun to understand the L.T.T.E. when he advised President
Jayewardene against transporting the 17 L.T.T.E. captives.

It is in all likelihood unfair
to accuse Mr. Dixit of conniving with President Jayewardene over the appointments
to the Interim Council. It is far more likely that he did the job of a negotiator
who was anxious to avoid trouble. An agreement already existed between India
and the President on the composition and method of appointment. Mr. Dixit would
have had to ask the President to concede a little more in agreeing to an L.T.T.E.
majority. The President conceded this much with some stipulations about the
method of appointment. When the L.T.T.E. objected to the President's choice,
it is reliably learnt that the President agreed to the L.T.T.E. revising the
list, giving them the option of securing a chairman from the East by submitting
all three names from the East. However the President could have gone further.
He had little to lose in agreeing to the L.T.T.E.'s intended nominees.

Such omissions by President
Jayewardene far from absolve India from the unprincipled character of its overall
handling of the Ceylon Tamil question which helped to bring about the current
impasse. Dixit, however, had his share of responsibility in India's cynical
use of Ceylon's Tamil problem. Then came an unexpected problem, not uncommonly
encountered in such unprincipled dealings. The L.T.T.E. acquired an autonomy
of its own -- shades of Bhindranwale and the Punjab. Relationships were already
complicated by mistrust and mutual cynicism. When the government in Colombo
agreed to fall in line, what was on offer was not enough for the L.T.T.E.. This
was a problem that India seemed incapable of tackling competently. There are
those who attach much importance to claims by the L.T.T.E. concerning verbal
promises made by India. Prabhakaran reportedly claims that Rajiv Gandhi assured
him that the L.T.T.E. could keep its arms after a token surrender of some arms.
Another claim much talked about concerns Tamil Nadu minister Pandruti Ramachandran.
He allegedly assured the L.T.T.E. that, although they would have to send in
15 names for the 7 seats on the interim council, the leading names would be
selected. The second has been discussed earlier. As for the first, even if such
a promise was made, the end result intended was clear. No armed group was eventually
going to be tolerated. The L.T.T.E. could not have been mistaken about that.
Given the present reputation of the Indian government, it cannot be put past
Messrs. Gandhi and Ramachandran to have made such promises.

Other reports of a secret
package agreed to between the L.T.T.E. and the Indian government surfaced in
the London Observer of Sunday, 3 April, 1988. The report filed by Dhiren Bhagat
from Colombo quoted Indian High Commissioner Mr. J.N.Dixit. It stated that funds
amounting to 200,000 pounds sterling a month (Rs. 5 million) were to be paid
to the L.T.T.E.. The funds were to be paid for the maintenance of L.T.T.E. members
until normal life returned to war ravaged areas. The Jaffna peninsula was to
receive Indian economic aid amounting to 43 million pounds sterling. The report
quotes Mr. Dixit as having said that the monthly payment was made for the month
of August (1987). The L.T.T.E. is said to have resumed secret talks with India
on the subject of new financial arrangements. The initial agreement is said
to have been reached between Prabhakaran and Rajiv Gandhi in New Delhi at the
end of July 1987.

The same report quoted the
L.T.T.E. spokesman in Madras as saying that the payment was part of a larger
package of guarantees to secure his co-operation in implementing the Indo-Lanka
Accord. The package of guarantees is said to have included: A majority of the
L.T.T.E. in the interim Provincial Council; one billion rupees economic assistance
to the Jaffna peninsula for rehabilitation to be undertaken by the L.T.T.E.
dominated Interim Council; and help to form a Tamil Police Force after the establishment
of the interim council. The L.T.T.E. spokesman had characterised this as a gentlemen's
agreement with the Indians. One wonders why hundreds have to die while gentlemen
played their pecuniary games. Whilst big money was being talked about in high
places, ordinary civilians were being assassinated for innocuous and sometimes
necessary dealings with the army of the same India. Some who got threatening
notes were those who sold things such as tomatoes to soldiers for a few tens
of rupees.

This report about the money
sounds plausible as it fits into the general pattern of things and has been
corroborated by Reuters and the Times of India. It may not amount to anything
sinister as the press in the South tries to make out. It is not inconsistent
with India's pledge to secure the L.T.T.E.'s compliance with the Accord. It
makes it even more unlikely that India was set on a one track course to destroy
the L.T.T.E.. India would certainly have kept several options open. Even after
the war India kept making approaches to secure the L.T.T.E.'s compliance. One
could say with certainty that if the L.T.T.E. had moved to confess past errors
and to seek a solid democratic base amongst the people, India would have found
it prudent to leave them alone. That the L.T.T.E. had to look for its security
in secret and undemocratic deals with a foreign power, rather than in the trust
of the people was a sign of its weakness. This makes all that followed even
more inexcusable.

Apologists for the L.T.T.E.
like to pick on such straws in the wind as the events surrounding the deportation
on 5 October, and represent these as turning points in the tragic drama resulting
from Indian and Sri Lankan perfidy. But the fabric of the tragedy was woven
by the intermingling of the failings of the different actors. Lying, deceit
and massacres are its various threads. It would be mere caprice to represent
isolated events as turning points.

Granted that the Indian and
Sri Lankan states are flawed affairs; anyone who aspired to lead the Tamils
must be judged very harshly if these flaws are held up as adequate grounds for
knowingly flinging the entire Tamil community into the fire. In mitigation however,
the L.T.T.E. is the product of a brutal world; a world where great leaders,
men whose education and maturity entitle them to know far better, routinely
use deceit and mass murder as legitimate forms of action. This can be seen in
the American use of Contra rebels in Nicaragua and in the Soviet meddling and
the shifting of sides in Eritrea. That President Reagan delegates authority
to decide on murder and assassination to distant C.I.A. officials or proxies
does not make him less of a murderer than a bandit who makes his own decisions.
The same can be said of most big nations which observe little restraint in the
way of law or principle when dealing with foreigners, especially by proxy. The
R.A.W. cannot claim moral superiority over the Tamil militant groups. The fight
against terrorism will be futile as long as the world's leaders play with terror
when it suits them. The impressionable young minds of the L.T.T.E. were moulded
by the cynicism and duplicity they encountered in their dealings -- with the
T.U.L.F., the Tamil elite, and the Sri Lankan and Indian authorities. They concluded
that the way to success was to outdo the others in these qualities. They realised
unforeseen success and forgot the original cause. The Tamil people who could
have exerted the corrective influence and have ensured that the right men became
leaders were themselves lost and became directionless.

The uncertainty over the Interim
Council lasted a few days. Most people hoped that the matter would get sorted
out, at least by the L.T.T.E. accepting the present arrangement as a spring
board for more. Then came the affair of the 17 detainees and the decision by
the L.T.T.E. that Tamil Eelam should after all become a burning volcano.

9.4 The End of an Era.

The
suicides of the twelve L.T.T.E. men in captivity have been dealt with separately.
Amongst them were Kumarappa and Pulendran. There was every prospect that they
would be released. The evidence seems to point that the decision the detainees
should take cyanide was taken by the L.T.T.E.'s top leadership. This brings
us to two questions. What motivated men like Kumarappa and Pulendran who had
reached their height of influence and power to throw away their lives so lightly?
The other question is, what do friendships with members of the L.T.T.E. really
mean? The L.T.T.E. is not a democratic organisation. Its members are under an
oath of personal loyalty to their leader Mr. Prabhakaran. This aspect of the
organisation was strengthened over time by a process of elimination. Those democratically
minded fell by the wayside, mostly by leaving the organisation. There is enough
pressure on ex-members of the organisation to remain passive. Those with the
organisational ability to challenge the L.T.T.E. must take even greater care.
It is then to be expected that those currently in positions of leadership in
the L.T.T.E. whether out of conviction or convenience take the oath of loyalty
to their leader seriously. Over time the workings of the organisations have
acquired religious, or even theological overtones. Conformity is also ensured
by a system of policing where every man is said to be the other man's spy. Kumarappa
was a man whose loyalty had been tested. When the L.T.T.E.'s Batticaloa leader
Kadavul refused to take on the TELO, the L.T.T.E. had to rely on Kumarappa and
Pottu. The smallest price to be paid for disobedience, for a person with no
means, may be some abject retirement. To many, this may be worse than death.
One person who perhaps came closest to defying Prabhakaran was Kittu. His fate
will long remain a matter of conjecture. This may, just perhaps, throw some
light on the fates of Kumarappa, Pulendran and even Thileepan.

Going by human nature and
the unusual requirements of the type of organisation the L.T.T.E. is, the importance
of the system of policing together with rewards and punishments cannot be under-estimated.
It has been frequently found that the conduct of individual L.T.T.E. members
can vastly differ as individual persons and in a group. In the wake of the Indian
offensive of October, those L.T.T.E. members who were isolated by their families
were much readier to accept mediation and surrender. Many such persons surrendered.
A clergyman involved in social work observed: "Several of the L.T.T.E.
boys who have their families in Jaffna are handing over their arms to boys from
outstation areas and are going to their families. Those from the outstations
are moving about with the rest in isolated pockets not knowing what to do and
out of communication with the leadership." One area leader in Jaffna gave
hints of wanting to surrender. Fear of punitive action weighed heavily on his
family. It was later reported that he fell in with some other members of his
group and had left Jaffna. Parathan, a leading member of the L.T.T.E.'s television
unit, was also regarded a hard man. Shortly before the Indian army's advance
into Nallur, he was observed alone in the Kandasamy temple area. He was going
from house to house and sometimes stopping motorcyclists on the road, pleading
with the owners for the loan of a 200 CC motorcycle. If a vehicle had been required
by the group, it could have been commandeered. Evidently, Parathan did not want
it publicised that he was looking for a vehicle.

Malaravan, the former L.T.T.E.
leader of Ariyalai, was seen in the wake of the Indian advance, nestling like
a babe between his father and mother, in the back of a car parked in the precincts
of Kandasamy Kovil. Malaravan became notorious after beating to death a civilian,
Edward, in the Ariyalai camp in November 1986. It is very probable that Malaravan's
fate could have been different had his parents not been near at hand. It was
later reported the he was detained while being taken southwards to be sent abroad.
The facility to go abroad is again crucial in decisions to be taken by dissatisfied
militants. If many of the militants had been dissatisfied, it would have cost
the Sri Lankan government only Rs. 0.2 billion out of its annual defence budget
of 15 billion (1.3%) to provide 2000 militants with the maximum Rs. 1 lakh that
each needed to go abroad. It gives one small aspect of the government's lack
of imagination.

Without making unfair generalisations,
like in any organisation, the motivations of those who joined it are widely
different. In the case of the L.T.T.E. some would be motivated by ties of clan
or thirst for power, others by romance and many by a burning hatred of the government
for what it had done. Some joined just for a lark because others were doing
it and the community had little to offer in making routine life worthwhile.
Those most easily disillusioned are the ones who had the intention of doing
some good to the community. Such persons are likely to have independent ideas
and will be the least amenable to an oath of personal loyalty to the leader.
It was pointed out that most of the staff and students from the University of
Jaffna who joined the L.T.T.E. in the early 1980's dropped out. Prominent amongst
them were Mr. and Mrs. Nithiyanandan. The only person left from that lot is
Anton Sivakumar whose relationship with the L.T.T.E. is again chequered. The
best L.T.T.E. members are those who are caught young with impressionable minds,
with a simple joy in carrying a gun, a boyish thirst for romance and who have
no parents capable of influencing the child and of being a nuisance to the child's
career in the militancy. The latest additions are from amongst girls. Many Tamil
girls have a gloomy future resulting from the breakdown of a society where women
were dependent and where well above 100,000 young men have gone abroad. Numbers
connected with the militancy were far less - about 15,000 at best. Amongst girls,
again, motivations vary widely. Those most amenable to romance and whose tenure
is short are likely to come from secure middle class families. A large number
of girls joined the L.T.T.E. from lower middle class families from rural areas
such as Mullaitivu. These were from homes directly affected by Sri Lankan military
action. It was Prabhakaran's genius to weld all these diverse motivations into
an organisation where personal loyalty to him would be enforced. He had the
imagination to study people and use even those doubting persons who would at
least be formally independent. For some with literary talents, a smile and some
kind and flattering words from Prabhakaran were enough to secure their loyal
services.

As for friendships with the
L.T.T.E., the evidence suggests that there was a very sincere element in many
of them. The friendship Kittu and Rahim formed with Captain Kotelawala of the
Ceylon army was genuine, and has gone on beyond its period of mere utility.
Kittu once reportedly came under criticism for preventing an L.T.T.E. sniper
from taking a pot-shot at Captain Kotelawela who was exposed while inspecting
positions around the Fort. Subsequently Kittu's party is said to have been fired
at by an army sniper. A senior L.T.T.E. leader once said that their relationship
with Captain Kotelawela was based on their mutual appreciation of each other
as professional soldiers. The close ties between Kittu and Rahim are again out
of character for an organisation where loyalty to the leader comes first. The
presence of both in Madras is regarded a kind of exile. Even after the strange
affair of Kittu losing a leg, he proved his usefulness as a field commander
in Jaffna during Operation Liberation where his mere presence was able to inspire
morale which had been failing amongst the ranks. The ties even extended to family
circles. Kittu's old mother from Valvettithurai, recently visited the family
of Rahim's intended bride in Nallur. Rahim is the last remaining in the L.T.T.E.
out of a group of 6 class-mates from St. John's College who joined in 1984;
the last to leave went abroad in September 1986 after being the Karainager leader.
Rahim's survival capacity is tied perhaps with his ability to avoid unpleasant
subjects in conversation. He displayed a touching desire to keep in touch with
old schoolmates when his application to join the St. John's College Old Boys
Association came before the committee in October 1987. Kittu can be crude, vulgar
and illogical (the logic of power that one sees in so many army officers) in
his appearances, and very inconsiderate to commoners who fall foul. But the
ties he sought with leaders in the South appear to have a genuine element. He
had that kind of erratic emotional bent.

Amongst the many murdered
while Kittu was in charge of Jaffna was the Jaffna P.L.O.T.E. leader, Mendis
(Wijayapalan). Mendis was regarded as a friend of Kittu's and was killed after
one month's captivity in January 1987 despite an assurance given to his family
that he would not be harmed. Mendis is accused of having helped several persons
wanted by the L.T.T.E. to escape to India. It is not known with certainty if
the decision to kill Mendis came from Kittu or from above. But significantly,
it took place within a few days of Prabhakaran's arrival in Jaffna. One may
hazard the guess that it would have been out of character for Kittu to have
treated Sinhalese visitors and prisoners in the way they were treated in September
and October 1987. This last decision appears to have been taken between Prabhakaran,
Balasingam and Mahattaya. Balasingam's influence in decision making may not
be of great importance. But the personal need Prabhakaran has of him seems to
have enabled him to safeguard his position. Balasingam, a former British High
Commission employee, who later wrote a doctoral thesis on Hegel, was a teacher
of political science at a British polytechnic. He could also converse ably on
philosophical subjects. After July 1983 he moved to Madras with his Australian
wife Adele to be full-time spokesman for the L.T.T.E.. His writings helped to
give the L.T.T.E. a Marxist image. But his real function was far less flattering.
In Prabhakaran's words, he was to "explain rather than to direct the course
of armed struggle." His real significance stemmed from an emotional need
Prabhakaran had of him. The relationship was a stormy one. When drinking with
friends in Madras, Balasingam would sometimes say, "Drink, friend, drink.
There is little else you can do when you are in an outfit like this." When
back on the job, his doubts would seem to vanish. His wife, a former member
of the British Communist party, would sometimes agree when others expressed
doubts about the state of things within the L.T.T.E., but after talking it over
with her husband, she would come back with her doubts cleared.

Mahattaya had a childhood
steeped in want. He is very much a loner and is not much of a public man. Mahattaya
is once said to have had serious differences with Prabhakaran. These appear
to have been patched up. Those who befriended him in old times can perhaps claim
a hint of loyalty that did not quite approach friendship. He would be suspicious
of the kind of ties formed by Kittu.

The ties of friendship between
Kumarappa and Indian army officers again appear to be genuine. He married after
the Accord and took his marital relationship seriously. The thought of death
in such a relationship cannot be uppermost in a person's mind. His was no ordinary
suicide, for he had cause to live. The day before he committed suicide, he told
an Indian officer he counted as a friend: "You must see my wife today."
That has the fatal ring of a man who cares for his wife, but must yet bow to
an inexorable destiny. This perhaps demonstrates the nature of friendships with
men in the L.T.T.E.. Many of them are human in the ordinary sense. But they
are bound by an inexorable fate which draws them through either faith or fear
- perhaps both.

This fate finds its embodiment
in their leader Veluppillai Prabhakaran. One aspect of his calls to mind some
kind of subcontinental cult god whose mighty will commands the rise of devotees
and later sends them obediently to their destruction. It is as though loyalty,
and blind obedience are one and the same thing to him. A common error in presenting
great figures of history is to glorify their military successes where they murdered
hundreds of thousands of their fellow men, and describe their ultimate failure
as incidental upon some miscalculation. Their seamy side and the destructive
process it engendered are lost sight of as the real cause of failure. Napoleon
on the one hand is the military genius, the victor of Austerlitz who with a
wave of his hand rolled back the combined forces of Austria, Prussia, Russia
and Britain. He was also the great actor who looking at the pyramids of Egypt
surveyed 5000 years of history. What are we to make of his hasty, ignominious
retreat from Moscow to Paris in record time in the winter of 1812, leaving his
harried men to face the ravages of the Russian winter? By romanticising him
we lose sight of the personal tragedy of the man, his spiritual emptiness, his
uncertainties and the reassurances he sought in the way of securing power over
other men. His mistake was not a misjudged attack on Russia. By 1810 France
was already creaking under the load of militarisation.

Likewise one aspect of Mr.
Prabhakaran's case is fascinating. Using unpromising material his will forged
together a force, the L.T.T.E., which made the world sit up. A government in
Colombo which treated the Tamil problem with derision in 1978 and savagery in
1983 was shaken to its foundations. In time New Delhi too became unsure. Washington
took a keen interest. Where lesser mortals would have chosen to call it off,
Prabhakaran persisted for greater gain. All this required a ruthless will to
manipulate everything that came his way.

It was now the end of an era.
A struggle that had, in its dawn, been fired by several noble ideals, and called
forth courage and much sacrifice from young persons irrespective of group, had
now reached a point where the community was powerless and voiceless. How long
could a military force that claimed to represent them retain any degree of real
autonomy with such a weak base ? In the interests of sheer survival, people
would have to dispense with standards and ideals and become immune to the loss
of life. In time, with children becoming militarised with hardly any voice raised
from within the community, even the last links on our hold on civilisation are
put into question.

What went wrong ? Had we been
led by a casual acceptance of violence as a tool to disregard the value of all
life ?

One last scene impresses itself
on the mind. The scene was the playing field of the University of Jaffna at
dusk on 13 October, 1987. The Indians had blundered a first landing near the
University the day before. Sentries were now posted everywhere. A line of women
stood with guns around the field. They epitomised the hopelessness that has
beset many Tamil women. Their faces were blank as if they cared little whether
they lived or died. They had little resemblance to Joan of Arc or to the Parisian
women who stormed the Bastille. One of them said in a quiet voice that betrayed
no emotion: "Please close the gate when you go." A tear was not out
of place.

9.5 A Digression on the Forces of History

With
all our limitations (not one of us among this group of writers is an academic
historian) and with all our differences in views, we have in a way tried to
do what Thucydides did for the Pelopponesian war 2500 years ago - the debilitating
war between Athens and Sparta which ended Greek supremacy of the Mediterranean
world. What we have offered is a series of reflections and accounts of our own
situation. We too have to come to terms with a world that has been changed by
these events. We hope we have offered something towards understanding these
events and, thus, towards changing our lot for the better.

One debate that will go on
is whether there is a form of armed struggle that will bring about freedom and
democracy or if violence is to be entirely abhorred and the struggle is only
to be towards creating (on a large scale) the personal virtues of honesty and
a love for truth, together with a willingness to suffer for them. And if the
latter, whether it is consistent to confine nonviolence to human beings only
or if it should be extended to the animal kingdom as well. Those who admit the
possible use of force would maintain that i. they are not advocating it for
the love of it; ii. violence is part of the day to day reality of this world;
and iii. it would be sheer irresponsibility to blind oneself to it and leave
its use entirely in the hands of anti-social or criminal elements. Moreover
they would say, that at the end of the day, the objective reality is determined
by those who have the guns.

Those who disagree will say
that there is a subjective element in judging the fruits of violence. Apart
from the evils of war, there is also the long term damage to the psyche. There
is also the question of the time frame. The idealism of Lenin gave way to the
purges of Stalin - perhaps the largest act of mass murder in the history of
mankind, exceeding even Hitler's acts against Jews. Did not the legitimacy given
to the revolution by dedicated revolutionaries like Lenin, pave the way for
the passive acceptance of the arbitrary acts of Stalin? Did the journey from
Tsar Nicholas II to Mikhail Gorbachev have to pass through the purges of Stalin?

To this may come the reply
that we are not in a position to sit back and judge history as though it could
have been otherwise. It was made by those who grasped the opportunities of the
moment. There is always room for others to mismanage things later. We will be
judged severely if we do not grasp the opportunities of our time and choose
to run away from them.

It may then be replied that
life has gone this far on the assumption that force is necessary. Its use has
an honoured place in human culture. But misery has persisted and even increased,
to a point that unless we can create a culture where force is outside normal
reckoning, mass suicide may become a reality. What is absurd to human reason
may become a reality in another realm. Perhaps a search for and the surrender
to God may be the only option we have left. Are not after all, all the sophisticated
theories of revolution leak-proofed to the point of becoming esoteric creations?
They are never proved false because the initial conditions are somehow never
right. Ask anyone who has lived through a revolution! In the academic world,
a moral interpretation of history would be treated as naive. But this was the
standpoint adopted by many historians through the ages who felt a burning desire
to communicate what they believed to be the truth - down from the prophets of
ancient Israel and Thucydides. In fact, F.M. Cornford, a widely respected Greek
scholar has this to say in his essay titled The Unconscious Element in Literature
and Philosophy: "Now this is not to say that Thucydides' philosophy of
life is not, within its limits, a true philosophy - as true as any alternative
our own minds may contribute. It may even be truer. Fourteen years ago, writing
under the impression of the South African war (Boer war, 1898 - 1900), I may
have overstressed the financial aspect of imperialism. Since 1914 (First World
War) Thucydides' moral interpretation of history has seemed more profound."
("The Unwritten Philosophy", Cambridge University Press).[Top]